


Jon/"Stephen" Drabbles & Ficlets (II)

by ErinPtah



Series: Fake News Drabbles and Ficlets [8]
Category: Fake News FPF
Genre: 1 Sentence Fiction, Alternate Universe - Religious, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Coming Out, Fairy Tale Curses, M/M, Nightmares, Pets, Puns & Word Play, Texting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-28
Updated: 2014-12-16
Packaged: 2017-12-24 23:15:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/945826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErinPtah/pseuds/ErinPtah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A second compilation of Jon/"Stephen" shortfics, featuring fluff, comedy, ridiculous-but-so-them romance, and sometimes even normal romance. (Serious angst is in a different compilation.) Some sexual scenes, nothing too explicit yet, but that may change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Worldly Pleasures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt courtesy the [Homolust Challenge Generator](http://s339288503.onlinehome.us/HOMOLUST/homolust.html): "A racist monk + a clumsy stripper in a lab. They are frenemies. It must involve spanking."

There are, broadly speaking, three kinds of ways people look at Jon when he's on stage. The open, enthusiastic cheer of someone who's here to enjoy themselves and comfortable with that. The furtive, desperate hunger of someone who doesn't think they're supposed to be here, but couldn't keep denying themselves everything. And the amusement, from good-natured to jeering, of people who think it's hilarious when he trips over his own heels.

The man in the robe with the shaved head isn't doing any of the above. His eyes are dark and intense and don't seem to blink enough behind those rimless glasses, and Jon isn't _scared_ , exactly, but he's definitely sifting through words like _skinhead_ and _serial killer_ and _aren't the bouncers supposed to flag guys who stare like that?_

Jon toes off his heels (slowly, sexily, flexing his ankles, for the customers who are into that sort of thing) and struts to the edge of the stage. May as well confront this now — with lots of witnesses around, not to mention security people. Make the guy feel that he's not going to get away with anything.

The man does a deer-in-headlights freeze as Jon sashays in his direction. The other customers laugh, cheer; there are a couple of wolf-whistles. Jon bats his eyelashes winningly and sits himself right in the guy's lap — or tries to — he gets the angle wrong and almost falls, and the customer unfreezes enough to grab him around the waist, keeping him balanced.

"Uh, thanks," says Jon. Not his sexiest line, but hey, Mom raised a boy with good manners. "And hello, um..." Up close like this, he finally notices the crucifix hanging around the guy's neck. "...Brother?"

"Hi," pants Brother Creepy.

Jon runs a couple fingers up the back of his neck and the curve of his head. "Kinda far from the cloister, aren't you? How'd that happen?"

Whatever daze Brother Creepy has been in all this time, he snaps out of it. "Well, it's a long story," he says, pleasant as anything, "but I think it all started on the morning of _none of your business_."

Jon's taken aback for a second, then shrugs. "Fair enough."

"And I gotta say, so far, worldly pleasures? Not all they're cracked up to be. Are all tempters of the flesh as clumsy as you, or is it just a, you know..." His hands are still on Jon's hips, so he settles for nodding in the general direction of Jon's bone structure. "...Semitic thing?"

Jon rolls his eyes. "Hey, I will have you know that I am plenty suave when I'm wearing normal clothes. If the ridiculous outfit wasn't part of the job, I wouldn't touch it with a ten-foot pole." And then, because he's starting to get some murmurs of dissatisfaction from the audience, he does a sultry writhe in Brother Racist's arms and nibbles on the man's ear. "Gotta pay off those student loans somehow."

"Mguh," says the ex-monk. "Other ear. Other one. That one's deaf."

No problem. Jon arches his back and switches sides. "You didn't miss anything. A line about student loans, that's all."

Brother Half-Deaf is breathing hard again, though he's managing to be articulate this time around. "You're...a man of learning?"

"Third semester in a local psych grad program," croons Jon. "You'd love it. School's named after a saint and everything."

"Hngh."

"You got a name, by the way?"

"S-Stephen."

Speaking of named after saints. Jon runs his hands one last time over the guy's chest; the fine gold chain of the crucifix catches on his fingers. "Well, Stephen...the lab's empty this time of night," he murmurs. "And I've got a key. You want an introduction to a couple other worldly pleasures...by which I mean, science...stick around until after my shift, and I'll take you out for a private show."

 

_Postscript._

"Okay, seriously," said Jon, "the next time you say something offensive about non-WASPs -- or WASCs, I guess -- I'm smacking you."

Brother Stephen's breath caught in his throat. He searched Jon's eyes for a second, then said, very deliberately, "If the people who control the media are all like you, no wonder we weren't allowed to have a TV in the monastery."

Jon facepalmed. "You know, you could have just asked."


	2. It's bunny day!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One-sentence Easter fic. Title is the prompt.

When Stephen shakes him awake in the morning wearing a cheap rabbit-ear headband and announces that it's time to hunt for eggs, Jon thinks he's being ridiculous; when Stephen immediately follows this up by sticking his hand down Jon's pajama pants, Jon reflects that, hey, just because it's really stupid doesn't mean he can't roll with it.


	3. Stephen's Worst Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Nightmares. More specifically, from politicette: _"Stephen" had a bad dream that all his hair fell out._

It's about four in the morning, and Jon really shouldn't try to answer his phone, but he's too groggy to remember that he can send it to voicemail. "H'lo?"

There's no greeting on the other end, just a wet sniffle.

Jon rubs his eyes and squints at the phone screen. Sure enough. "Stephen? Is something wrong?"

"Jon, I," gulps Stephen, and pauses for another sniff. "I'm s-so sorry."

Well, great. Now Jon is imagining all kinds of apocalyptic scenarios. (Stephen standing alone outside their building as the fire trucks race in, having just blown up his apartment, leaving Jon's to cave in above it....) "Wha'd you do?"

"I will never..." Stephen shudders with feeling. "...never _ever_ make f-fun of your hair loss ever again!"

Jon rolls over on the pillow and closes his eyes. "Uh, thanks."

"I didn't know!" wails Stephen in his ear. "I didn't understand how t-traumatic it must be! You were s-so strong, putting up with my unknowing _cruelty_ , never once complaining!"

"Uh-huh." Not once, no. Jon had gently asked Stephen to knock it off at least three or four times. Not that he couldn't take a joke about it, but there was gentle ribbing and then there was Stephen.

"Well, now I understand!" cries Stephen. "And I promise you, Jon Stewart, I have learned from this trauma! I will be a better friend from now on!"

"Mmhmm," agrees Jon. Given the time, he can't tell if Stephen actually did something to his own hair, or is just having trouble distinguishing between nightmares and reality again. Either way, he can deal with it better in the morning. "Listen, I forgive you, 'kay? So go back t'sleep."

Stephen takes a couple of squeaky breaths. "You're so g-generous," he sniffles. "Thank you, Jon. Good night."

"G'night," agrees Jon, and is asleep again almost before the call ends.


	4. Two Pets Stephen Is Not Allowed To Keep (and one he is)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For some prompts back in the day at fakenews_fanfic: name an animal and I will write the ficlet about how Jon reacted when "Stephen" tried to bring one home.

**Rhinoceros.**

It was with some trepidation that Jon hit the elevator button and started going down. Stephen had called from the lobby of their building, claiming he was having an issue with the doorman and needed Jon to come and help. As far as Jon was concerned the doorman was an extremely reasonable person, so anything he didn't want Stephen to bring in was probably worth the nerves.

At first he thought the low-slung, thick-limbed grey shape at Stephen's feet was a dog.

"Where on earth did you get that thing?" he demanded, once he processed the nubbly grey skin, flicking cowlike tail, and, oh yes, the stub of a horn.

"Shh!" hissed Stephen, sinking to his knees and massaging the folds of the baby rhino's neck. (He was using a stiff-bristled brush to do it, which Jon had never seen before and now suspected was also stolen.) "You'll hurt his feelings! Reginald is not a _thing_ , Jon!"

Oh no. No no no. Stephen was not pulling the 'I named it, now I get to keep it forever' trick with an endangered and almost certainly illegal species. " _Reginald_ needs to go back to his mother," said Jon, in his best Serious Voice.

Stephen's lip wobbled. "He doesn't have a mother. Don't you see, that's why he needs me! I'll take very good care of him, I swear. I'll brush him every day and raise him to be kind and respectful toward smaller animals. And once he's all grown up, I'll keep taking care of him even after I've cut off his horn and sold it on the black market!"

 

**Pigeon.**

The two grey birds strutted across the windowsill on the inside of the closed glass, pecking at the piles of birdseed Stephen had laid out for them. He was thinking of naming them Max and Beethoven.

"You can't keep them," said Jon, very unreasonably. "They're pests, Stephen. What are you going to do, adopt a couple of roaches next?"

"How dare you compare these beautiful, majestic birds to a couple of common bugs?" demanded Stephen. "Besides, you go up to the studio roof and feed pigeons there all the time! How is that any different from this?"

"When I'm feeding pigeons outside," replied Jon, "they can't get into my bedroom and poop on my stuff."

Stephen shoved open the window and unhooked the screen. "On second thought, who am I to keep such beautiful creatures caged? Fly free, my lovelies!"

 

**Angora Rabbit.**

There was a basketball-sized lump of white fluff in Stephen's lap, an open laptop on the coffee table, and what looked like a genuine old-fashioned spinning wheel next to him on the carpet. "What did you do, rip out the insides of a pillow?" asked Jon when he came in.

The ball of fur twitched.

"Jon," said Stephen proudly, skritching a part of the puffball that Jon abruptly recognized as two long ears, "meet Greta Van Fluffteren, the softest, prettiest bunny in the whole wide world."

"Uh, wow," said Jon, kneeling next to them to get a closer look. From here, he managed to pick out the soft white face in the middle of the long fur: Greta had huge tufts of fluff falling down over her eyes, but when she twitched her nose at Jon, he could spot that. "She's seriously adorable."

Stephen beamed. "You want to pet her?"

Yes. Yes, Jon absolutely wanted to pet her. Stephen lifted the rabbit into Jon's arms, and he settled her into his lap, skritching up her back and down her sides. Much as it looked like Greta would be fur all the way through, she was surprisingly solid underneath it. "Where did she come from? Are you watching her for someone?"

"No, we're keeping her!" exclaimed Stephen.

Normally Jon would have objected to being left out of a decision like this, but Greta's nose was still twitching and she was perfectly docile under his hands, and who was Jon to object to a thing like that? "You did, ah, get her a cage and some chew toys and stuff, right?" he asked, just to be on the safe side.

"I'm still working on all the little details," said Stephen airily. "Got the spinning wheel, though!" He got to his feet and ran a hand along the curve of the wheel. "I'm going to teach myself how to spin Angora wool, and make us matching sweaters."

Jon glanced at the laptop. Sure enough, it had a couple of relevant windows open: a YouTube video of wool being spun off a rabbit, an eHow page explaining how to knit. And the sad thing was, that was leaps and bounds (heh) above the level of research Stephen usually did. "He at least fed you, right, Ms. Van Fluffteren?" cooed Jon. "Is 'oo a hungry bunny, hmm?"

Greta wiggled her nose in a noncommittal sort of way.

"They like hay and lettuce," Stephen informed him, still caressing the spinning wheel. "I volunteer to give her all my vegetables from — ow!"

"You okay?" asked Jon.

"Fine, fine," said Stephen distantly. "Just pricked my finger on...this pointy bit...here...."

He collapsed to the floor with a thump, eyes falling closed.

Jon sighed. "I'll kiss you in a minute," he assured Stephen's unconscious body, before gathering up Greta the way he'd seen Stephen do: one hand under the front legs, one hand under the hindquarters. "C'mon," he said, carrying her into the kitchen. "Let's get the pretty bunny some water and some noms."


	5. The Interview

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephen brings on a special guest to discuss tonight's top story.
> 
> (How it went down in the [Expectingverse](http://reseda.dreamwidth.org/107961.html).)

"But, Nation, we all know the top story tonight: Me.

"Now, I know I say that all the time anyway, but today it's actually true. The tabloids broke it, the blogosphere ran with it, and the mainstream media is still complaining about why it always hears the good gossip last.

"I am talking, of course, about my secret long-time affair with fellow late-night host and noted liberal, Jon Stewart."

A nervous titter ran through the audience. Nobody was quite sure whether to laugh or boo, cheer or aww.

"We all know this kind of salacious scandal is hardest on the poor beleaguered wife," Stephen continued. "Joining me now, the poor beleagured wife: Tracey Stewart!"

The audience burst into enthusiastic applause, partly out of relief that they actually knew what to do. No matter what the circumstances, when a guest comes on, you clap.

Tracey favored them with a gracious wave before shaking Stephen's hand. "Glad to be here, Stephen."

"We're glad to have you," agreed the host, before getting right down to business. "Now, Tracey, were you shocked to hear about this secret affair?"

"Not particularly," said Tracey with a shrug. "I've known about it for years."

"Oh — you mean in the sense that the wife always knows something is wrong?"

"No, I mean in the sense that I agreed to it before it started."

A gasp went up from the crowd.

Tracey ignored them, keeping her attention on Stephen's shrewd gaze. It wasn't hard. He had a way of looking at you that made it feel like there was nothing else in the world but the conversation he was having.

"You agreed to it!" he exclaimed. "So the Stewarts are into three-ways, then? Or freaky orgies where you have no idea whose toes you might be sucking?"

"That sounds a little out-there for me," laughed Tracey. "Besides, between the two of us, he's the only one who wants you that way. And you don't particularly want to sleep with me, do you?"

"God, no!" said Stephen quickly. "Uh, no offense."

"None taken."

(Okay, there had been at least one night when some good-natured teasing between her and Stephen had turned into a surprisingly sexy contest. But that probably didn't count, because their full attention was on, not each other, but the man helplessly panting fragments of both of their names in the middle.

And anyway, the general public didn't need to know about that.)

"To be honest," she added, "back at the beginning, I was a little hesitant to even let you get involved with Jon. Partly because of the general idea, and partly because...well...."

"You knew I wasn't very good at sharing," offered Stephen ruefully.

"Exactly." She smiled. "But you promised to do your best. And, of course, Jon loved you. So I decided to give you a chance — and I'm glad I did. You've made us very happy, Stephen."

Stephen ducked his head to hide a blush. The audience broke into a chorus of awws.

"Well, of course," he stammered, hastily flipping through his note cards for the next question. "I make _everyone_ happy. Obviously. Unless they hate America, or something."

He found the card and looked up again, mostly composed. "So, ah...does it bother you that you can't withhold sex as a weapon any more? I mean, since Jon can just get it on with me if you won't put out."

"I didn't do that in the first place," pointed out Tracey. "But, listen, we're not exactly a free-love commune. If Jon were to sneak off to you on one of my nights, that _would_ be cheating. We do have rules, even though they're not the traditional ones, and we've all agreed to follow them."

Stephen's eyebrows flew upwards. "And that works?"

"It has for the past four years."

Stephen nodded thoughtfully. "So, just to be clear," he said, gesturing with his pen, "you're totally cool with the fact that I'm sleeping with your husband."

"If you can keep sharing him, I can."

"It's a deal." Stephen turned to the camera with a broad grin. "Tracey Stewart, everybody! We'll be right back."


	6. Maxim's Finest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A ficlet in honor of both Stephen and Olivia Munn making the Maxim Top 100. Mostly in text-message format.
> 
> One NSFW illustration.

**Stephen Freedom Colbert**  
HEARD ABOUT YOUR MAXIM WIN

 **Stephen Freedom Colbert**  
JUST WANTED TO SAY CONGRATS

 **Olivia Munn <3**  
Aww, thanks boo. Ur sweet.

 **Olivia Munn <3**  
BTW don't I owe u some congratulations as well?

 **Stephen Freedom Colbert**  
FUNNY YOU SHOULD MENTION IT

 **Stephen Freedom Colbert**  
TECHNICALLY SPEAKING YOU STAYED AT THE SAME HOT PLACE

 **Stephen Freedom Colbert**  
WHEREAS I WENT FROM NO HOT PLACE AT ALL TO PLACE 69

 **Stephen Freedom Colbert**  
THE SEXIEST OF ALL THE PLACES OBVIOUSLY

 **Olivia Munn <3**  
Bet u wouldn't be saying that if u were #2. ;)

 **Stephen Freedom Colbert**  
AND LIKE A THOUSAND MILLION PERCENT INCREASE

 **Stephen Freedom Colbert**  
LOOK JUST BECAUSE YOU ARE MY ASIAN FRIEND DOES NOT MEAN YOU CAN MAKE FUN OF MY MATH SKILLS

 **Olivia Munn <3**  
Ofc not. U have all ur other friends for that.

 **Stephen Freedom Colbert**  
SEE THIS JUST PROVES MY POINT

 **Stephen Freedom Colbert**  
MEANNESS IS NOT SEXY

 **Olivia Munn <3**  
Im just teasing. U know that.

 **Olivia Munn <3**  
Im very happy for ur historic win, and thousand million percent increase. U deserve it.

 **Olivia Munn <3**  
Friends?

 **Olivia Munn <3**  
Sexy friends?

 **Stephen Freedom Colbert**  
NO FAIR

 **Stephen Freedom Colbert**  
YOU ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO ACKNOWLEDGE MY SUPERIOR SEXINESS BEFORE I AM DONE BRAGGING

 **Olivia Munn <3**  
Lol cute. U think I acknowledged ur superior sexiness.

 **Stephen Freedom Colbert**  
BETTER

 **Stephen Freedom Colbert**  
I ACCEPT YOUR APOLOGY

 **Stephen Freedom Colbert**  
NOW OLIVIA MUNN ANSWER ME THIS

 **Stephen Freedom Colbert**  
IF YOU ARE TRULY THE SEXIEST OF US THEN WHY ARE YOU SPENDING THE NIGHT ALONE IN YOUR APARTMENT WATCHING AVENGERS COSPLAY VIDEOS ON YOUTUBE INSTEAD OF GETTING SOME

 **Olivia Munn <3**  
Now thats not fair. U know Im filming in LA and Kristen has stuff in NY.

 **Stephen Freedom Colbert**  
THE IMPLICATION HERE IS THAT I AM CURRENTLY GETTING SOME

 **Stephen Freedom Colbert**  
JUST WANTED TO MAKE SURE WE WERE CLEAR ON THAT

 **Olivia Munn <3**  
Uh huh. Suuuure.

**Stephen Freedom Colbert**  


**Olivia Munn <3**  
Omg.

 **Stephen Freedom Colbert**  
QDANDJFA;SKASD

_Incoming call from: Stephen Freedom Colbert_

 

***

 

"Olivia? Are you there?"

"Jon! Not to worry. I'm deleting that picture the second you hang up."

"Oh thank god. And it was the only one, right?"

("You should be proud, Jon! You're the only person who gets to go down on Maxim's hottest man in the _world!_ "

"Stephen, you're about a minute away from being Maxim's hottest _murder victim_.")

"Yep. Only one."

"...please don't sue him."

("What would she sue for? You can only sexually harass people who are hotter than you are!")

"No problem. Um, please don't kill him?"

"Yeah, yeah. He'll live. Although he is _not getting the end of that blo—_ uh—private personal thing we were engaged in."

("Jooooooon!")

"Sounds like a fitting punishment. I mean, if I knew what you were talking about! Which I totally don't. Because it's private."

("It was a blo—")

"Talktoyoulater!"

_Click._

 

***

 

 **Olivia Munn <3**  
Ok, today's lesson learned: sharing ur bf's private business is also not sexy.

 **Stephen Freedom Colbert**  
EXCEPT FOR THE PART WHERE MY BF IS TOTALLY SMOKIN WHEN ANGRY.

 **Olivia Munn <3**  
U have a point there.

 

***

 

 **Olivia Munn <3**  
Maybe even Maxim-level smokin.

 **Stephen Freedom Colbert**  
LETS NOT GET CRAZY NOW.


	7. Ratings-Grabbing For Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mpreg. The first line is ripped from canon; the rest of the fic just takes that and runs with it.

**Monday.**

"It's the first week of November sweeps...and I'm pregnant!"

 

 

**Tuesday.**

"Before we go, let's check in with our good friend, Stephen Colbert! Stephen, my friend, how are you?"

The lighting in the other studio was turned down, framing the host in a pool of moonlight-blue. Jon leaned forward and squinted. "Everything all right in there?"

"Did you catch the _Report_ last night?" asked Stephen, his tone dangerously velvet.

"Well, um." Jon cleared his throat. "That is to say...I don't always have time to...."

Stephen's eyes bored into him, face still as marble.

"Aw, Stephen, don't be mad," pleaded Jon, over the murmurs and awws of his audience. "I TiVo them, you know I do. I—"

"Coming up next!" interrupted Stephen, hands planted on the desk. "More very important personal news that Jon Stewart doesn't have time to pay attention to!"

 

**Wednesday.**

"And that's why Jon Stewart is, once and for all, going On Notice!" shouted Stephen once the clip ended, to a slightly ambivalent storm of applause. "Bring out the big board, boys!"

"Wait!"

More applause, wholehearted this time, as the man in question stepped out from behind a bookshelf and flung a hand in Stephen's direction.

"What are you doing here, Jon?" demanded Stephen. "Are you sure you have..." He turned dramatically aside, just in time to meet a new camera angle with soap-opera blocking. "... _time_ for this?"

Jon ignored the nervous titter that ran through the audience. "I got around to watching Monday's show," he said gently. "And I wanted to congratulate you on the big news."

"It's not that simple, Jon!" cried Stephen.

The lights around them dropped abruptly to the moonlight-blue filter. Jon jumped, eyes flickering nervously at the dramatic depths of shadow that had sprung up around him.

"If you can't even take half an hour of your busy day to watch my show," continued Stephen with the greatest solemnity, and just a touch of soft-focus, "then how can I know you'll have time to take care of the baby?"

Jon let out an exaggerated gasp. "Stephen! You mean—?"

"Yes, Jon." Stephen's head tilted toward the sky; a carefully planned impromptu breeze tousled the one lock of hair it could wrest away from the gel. "You're the father."

The audience went wild.

 

**Thursday.**

"As you know, around this time of year we like to do a little wrap-up of Halloween costumes. What was hot, what was not, what everybody was wearing and what was just plain outrageous, what...."

Jon's voice was drowned out by applause. He furrowed his brow at the camera for a moment, then slowly spun his chair to face the man sitting on the opposite side of the bend in his desk.

"H-hi, Stephen."

"I hope you're happy now," snapped Stephen. "Our faces are all over the tabloids. 'Stephen Colbert carrying Jon Stewart's love child!'"

"It's actually not in any tabloids, Stephen."

"It's only a matter of time before the mainstream media is parked on my—what?"

"Here, I'll show you." Jon began hauling samples out from under his desk. "The National Enquirer, Star, Weekly World News...not a word about us. They're too busy trying to pick sides in the epic war that is John versus Kate."

Stephen flipped through the stack of print with increasing urgency. At last he shoved the whole pile back at Jon. "What's wrong?" he demanded, lip wobbling. "Don't they think I'm important?"

The audience melted.

"Oh, Stephen," sighed Jon, reaching for his sleeve. "It doesn't matter what they think. What do they know? Besides, I think you're very important."

Stephen sniffled, then glanced hopefully up. "Really?"

"Yes." Jon clasped Stephen's hand between his own and smiled. "Really. You...and our baby."

The seats erupted as Stephen leaned forward and allowed Jon to place a chaste kiss on his cheek.

 

**Friday.**

"Still nothing!" huffed Stephen, tearing through another heap of newsprint before slouching grumpily back in his recliner. "What does the Internet say, Jon?"

"A couple of blogs mention it." Jon closed the laptop before rolling the chair back from his desk. "They're all complaining that they don't get the joke."

"I _never_ joke, Jon! Except about things like the vampire with the sore throat. You know, when it's funny!"

(Well, and when he was afraid of letting it show that he took something seriously. All this had started after one of Jon's most buzzed-about interviews, when Stephen had burst out with _Why hasn't anyone offered to bear your children yet?_ To which Jon had smirked and mentioned that there were plenty of offers, then ducked before Stephen could whack him with a pillow.)

"Easy, babe." Leaning over the back of Stephen's recliner, Jon brushed aside some of the debris and began rubbing his shoulders. "Look on the bright side. It means it hasn't occurred to anyone not to see you as a man."

"I guess."

"They'll figure out the truth sooner or later," added Jon ruefully. "I mean, eventually it'll be pretty obvious."

"And that's when they stop seeing me as a man, right?" mumbled Stephen.

"Some of them. Not all."

Stephen caught Jon's wrists and drew them down across the front of his robe, sliding one hand under the folds of flannel. His whole body loosened as Jon's touch ran over his skin, fingertips brushing across one of the curved scars.

"You're going to be a great dad," whispered Jon against his ear.

"Jon?"

"Hm?"

Stephen pressed his cheek softly against Jon's jaw. "You know what the vampire with the sore throat did? He used coffin drops."

Jon chortled under his breath. "See? That's what I'm talking about. You've already got the 'telling cheesy jokes' part down cold."


End file.
